Memory
by Nightengale
Summary: The attack of the brain on Ron in the department of mysteries left lasting scars, with some side affects


_Big thank you to my beta reader: Mandi (Smidget)_

The young witch on the floor twisted in agony again, another cut appearing on her already lacerated body. Her face was contorted in pain and her mouth was wide in a scream that would not leave her throat because of the numerous cuts already destroying her vocal chords. The gashes slowly grew in size as she lay on the floor tying to stop them. However, the wand would not allow slash after slash from growing and expanding. The curse spread over her entire body allowing her no relief from the pain as her blood bubbled at the surface and covered the floor.

Just before she died Ron woke up with a scream.

Ron sat part way up in bed, his arms holding his back up above the sheets as he gasped for air. His face was clammy and his hair was matted. Sitting up completely Ron wiped the back of his hands on his bed sheets and rubbed his arms. The scars he had received in the department of mysteries were still there, pale but visible on his arms. He felt cold and his breathing was erratic.

It had been another dream, another nightmare.

Ron had dreamed that particular dream twice before and each time he awoke just before the witch died. He knew she died though. Ron could remember it as if he had been there to watch it happen. And this wasn't the only horrible dream he was experiencing. He had many dreams of this nature, varying in horror but all of them seemed to involve curses and deaths he had never seen or heard of before. All of them stayed with him. These images remained perfect within his head like memories of previous days. Ron could tell you anything you wanted to know about each dream, every noise, every color, even what the bracelet the witch whose skin peeled off in another dream looked like as it shattered.

Regaining his normal breath Ron listened to see if he had woken anyone with his scream. He didn't think it had been too loud. Around him in the other four poster beds all breathing seemed to be normal. Even Harry who usually had the most fitful sleep was calm. Then again, Harry had taken to drinking dreamless sleep potions before he went to bed these days. Ron had tried that once but the dreams had come anyway. When he told Madam Pomfrey about it she said he must have just had a bad batch.

Ron knew what the problem was however. He'd been having these dreams off and on for four months now. Only in the last month had they started to come every night. They began about two weeks after the attack in the Ministry. Now Ron knew he wasn't the smartest wizard in the world but he had enough sense to know that what he was experiencing every night were not exactly dreams. They were memories.

Silently pushing back the curtains, Ron climbed out of his bed and headed over to the bathroom. He ran the tap and threw some cold water on his face.

"Calm down, Ron." He said to the mirror. "You're fine."

He was lying to himself.

"Ron?"

Ron jumped and whirled around at the sound of his name. Harry stood behind him in the door way adjacent to the other room. Crap.

"Uh, hey Harry, Christ, don't sneak up on me like that." His voice just above a whisper.

"Well, it's kind of hard to not be quiet when its 4 am, Ron." Harry said, waving a hand towards the other room.

Ron looked over at the clock in there and saw the glowing hands pointing to 4:04. He shut his eyes for a moment, cursing under his breath. Opening them again he smiled apologetically at Harry.

"Sorry, mate."

Ron hadn't told Harry or Hermione the extent of these 'dreams.' They both knew that he'd been having nightmares occasionally but whenever the topic came up, he managed to turn the conversation to Harry's recurring dreams. It was fairly easy as most of those in his year in the Gryffindor house knew about Harry's nightmares and worried about them. Everyone's focus had always been on Harry and for once Ron could use it to his advantage. Any time that the conversation did stay on Ron, he was able to brush off the dreams as simply a result of the Department of Mysteries, which was mostly true.

The problem with being caught awake at 4 am was that he had no way to get out of the conversation. Harry certainly hadn't been the one to wake him up, so what could he say?

Ron looked back at the mirror and turned off the water, just then realising that it was still on.

"Ron?"

He clenched his fists over the sink edges.

"Yeah?"

Harry was standing right behind him now.

"Uh… Are you…" He trailed off.

Asking if one was ok when they obviously weren't wasn't always so easy for adolescent boys. Ron nodded in response to the unasked question. However, Harry wasn't so easily sated that night.

"Ron, you know- "

Ron cut him off, turning around to face the other boy.

"I'm fine Harry, really."

Harry's eye's flicked down to the angry scars criss-crossed over his arms and averted his eyes. Ron knew that Harry blamed himself for what happened to Ron and Hermione at the Ministry. Every time Harry's eyes would fall on Ron's arms, he would have to look away and Ron could see the self hatred that would enter the other's eyes.

"Stop it." Ron said.

Harry looked back to Ron's face in surprise. "Stop what?"

"That, you're doing it again."

"Doing what?" Harry asked but his tone was darker.

"It's not your fault so just stop beating yourself up. It's not doing anyone any good."

"Ron…" Harry started.

"I mean it." Ron snapped, a little louder.

Harry's mouth closed.

"Just stop it and worry about now, not what's already done and gone." Ron said, a little harshly.

Ron couldn't help the snappiness of his tone. He had been more irritable and unreasonable lately as a result of less sleep and keeping secrets from his two best friends. He'd been trying a lot harder to stay calm and not blow up over stupid things but it still happened.

Ron sighed. "I'm sorry. I… uh… It was just a nightmare so I'm a little cross." He smiled at Harry.

Harry smiled back. "Lets go back to sleep then." He said.

"Yeah." Ron answered, though he wondered whether he would fall back asleep or not. The dream of the bleeding witch was still fresh in his mind.

--------------------

A week later Ron, Harry, and Hermione were sitting in the empty Gryffindor common room at a round table at 11pm. Ron and Harry were working somewhat less than diligently on their potions essays while Hermione occasionally voiced encouragement and pointers.

"Harry, wormswart is not part of that potion."

"Huh?" Harry looked up at Hermione confused with blank, woeful eyes.

She pointed down at his essay.

"Oh…" He stared at it a bit longer, somewhat confused. "What potion am I writing about again?"

Ron snorted, looking at his own parchment and ignoring Hermione's sudden lecture on doing homework on time to Harry. Ron was further along than Harry for some unknown reason and hadn't written anything about wormswart. However, there really was no need for Hermione to be down their throats. She was starting to sound worse than his mother. Half way through Hermione's speech Ron finally spoke up.

"Leave him alone, will you, Hermione!" He snapped. "He's doing what he can and just because you are an academic genius doesn't mean we are!"

Her mouth clicked closed and Harry was staring at him. Ok, maybe that had been a bit harsh, but Ron just looked back down at his essay.

"Ron…" Harry started warily.

Ron snapped his head around to stare angrily at Harry in response. "What?"

"Nothing…"

He turned his head back to his essay and jabbed his quill angrily down at his parchment. Ron didn't know what he was really angry at but he just didn't care. Hermione was being a nag and Harry was being self pitying so he was allowed to be angry if he wanted! If they could act annoying, he could damn well act immature.

Just then beside him Harry practically threw his quill into the wooden table and smacked his hands upon it.

"No, no, Ron it's not nothing!" Harry yelled, face snapping around to stare at Ron.

Hermione and Ron both looked at Harry.

"Harry…" Ron started but Harry stopped him.

"No, no excuses! What is wrong with you? And don't say you're fine!"

Ron had opened his mouth to say just that but it clacked shut at Harry's words.

"You're either angry or silent all the time now since school started again and it's only been getting worse. Don't tell me you don't see it, Hermione?"

He looked over at her.

"Well, I…"

Harry didn't let her finish.

"You think I don't see it? I know you've been having nightmares every night."

"What?" Hermione squeaked.

"Harry…" Ron tried to calm the other boy and not blow up himself.

"You think I'm asleep but I've seen you get up; I've heard you!"

"Shut up, Harry!" Ron finally exploded. "Like you're one to talk!"

"We know I have nightmares, Ron."

"Yeah, well yours usually mean something don't they?"

"Harry…" Hermione tired to intercede but the other two waved her off.

"Fine, fine, I have nightmares and I have for awhile. So, why are you having nightmares every night all of a sudden?"

"It's not every night!" Ron lied.

"Yes it is!"

"How would you know?"

"I sleep in the same room as you!" Harry screamed.

"I have dreams yeah, but everyone has dreams. But mine aren't connected to you-know-who's thoughts, now are they? Mine don't mean someone has been hurt or is going to be killed! Mine don't make a scar on my head hurt or bleed!"

"Bleed? Has it been bleeding again?" Hermione asked, frantically.

Harry finally balked and looked at Hermione.

"I didn't know you saw that…" Harry muttered.

"You screamed at 6am! I was the one that stopped you from breaking your arm on the bedpost, remember?"

"I was a little hazy." Harry remarked.

"Have you talked to Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, back into protective mother-teacher mode.

Harry made an unintelligible noise.

"You haven't?" Hermione squawked.

"No." Harry said defensively.

Hermione burst into a speech and Ron breathed a sigh of relief. Once again the tide of topic had turned successfully. As Hermione raged Harry flashed him a look that plainly said 'this isn't over' and Ron shivered.

It wasn't as if Ron was afraid to talk about it, of course not. He wasn't afraid. He just… didn't know what he would say. What good would it really do? Ron knew that the dreams and nightmares he was having were memories, that much was obvious. Though it had taken him awhile to face up to the idea Ron knew that these horrible memories must have come from the brain attack at the Ministry and scars he now had. The mediwitch had said that thoughts could leave lasting scars on the inflicted. These memories were just part of the scars.

Ron had looked into it a little at the library but he didn't find anything about memories being transferred through scars or how to remove them. Obviously Harry had magical connection with his scar but it was to a living wizard's mind. Ron on the other hand was now dreaming memories of some witch or wizard who was obviously dead and gone. How else could their brain be floating in a giant glass box in the department of mysteries?

Ron's thoughts were brought back to the conversation with Harry standing up beside him.

"Fine, Hermione, fine, I'm going." He said.

"Good." She replied with a careful smile then she added in a moment of tenderness, "We only want you to be safe, Harry."

He smiled back at her and looked over at Ron. Ron nodded at him and motioned his head towards the portrait hole. Walking out Harry shot him a look and was gone. Ron sighed and looked over and Hermione. She shrugged, gathered up their things, and they both walked up the stairs to their respective dorms.

---------------

The wizard was again flung against the stone wall by invisible hands, blood flowing in a stream from his mouth. He crumpled like a rag doll and tried to scream but sound only came out as a gasp.

"Help, help, help…" he kept saying over and over, barely audible.

"No! Stop it!"

Ron heard a voice screaming in the background but he couldn't turn his head to look. The wizard's face was covered in sweat and splatters of blood and Ron realized that in the wizard's hand he was holding one of his own lungs. There were no cuts on his body but blood was all around and the voice in the background kept screaming in terror, filling Ron's head.

A wand was pointed at the wizard again, his eyes grew wide, and he couldn't scream.

It wasn't until he heard Harry's voice telling him to stop that Ron even realised that he'd been flailing his arms around, trying to escape.

"Ron!" Harry shouted again and finally Ron stopped moving, realizing that Harry had both of his arms pinned against the mattress in an effort to subdue him.

For awhile, the two of them didn't move as Ron regained his breath. He'd been telling himself every night after he woke up to just breathe. Breathe. So, he breathed.

Blinking slowly, Ron started seeing the real world again and not that dark stone room and black wand. Harry was kneeling on his bed, hovering over him, still holding him down as if Ron would suddenly jump up and maul everyone in the room. Fortunately the other three members of the dorm room were not awake. Dean used silencing charms around his bed, Seamus could sleep through the apocalypse, and Neville was gone as he had been many nights of late. None of them knew why and they were afraid to ask. Ron's bed hangings were still up and everything looked normal in the dorm.

"You can let me go now." Ron said quietly.

Harry released Ron's shoulders and leaned back onto his heels, still sitting on Ron's bed. Ron sat up and rubbed his eyes hoping for a brief moment that the images in his head would fade. They didn't.

For awhile all that passed between them was cold and dusty air, until Harry finally broke the stillness.

"So." He said, looking intently at Ron.

"So." Ron said, looking down at his covers.

"Not every night, eh?"

Ron laughed and looked up at Harry. "No, no, of course not."

Harry laughed too and shifted position so he was sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

"So… uh…" Harry started after they stopped laughing. "What was it about?"

"The Department of Mysteries." Ron said automatically but he didn't meet Harry's eyes.

He hated lying to Harry but what was he really supposed to say? Oh, yeah, Harry every night now I seem to be dreaming some dead person's memories of gruesome deaths and torture scenes. It's right wonderful!

"Uh huh…" Harry said, still gazing at Ron with that intent look in his eyes. "I don't believe you.'

Ron looked up in surprise.

"Every time I ask you what your nightmare was about you say 'the Department of Mysteries' but you never sound like you mean it and you never say _what _about the Department of Mysteries."

Ron couldn't speak. He was suddenly trapped and he knew his angry words and changes of conversation would not save him this time. Harry was looking right at him with that worried and accusing stare.

"I…" Ron tried but failed.

"Why do you have to lie to me about your dreams?" Harry snapped in a hushed voice, then he softened. "Is it that bad?"

Ron felt his lip shake and he bit down on it to make it stop. Finally looking into Harry's face he felt himself sigh and nod.

"Uh… well you see…"

He didn't know what to say. How could he suddenly broach the topic after he had been ignoring it and avoiding it for this long? It seemed like an impossible hurdle that he was not willing to jump. But what choice did he have? He sighed. Why was it that when he wanted people to notice him they never did but when he didn't want to be noticed he was?

"Ok, so my dre- nightmares aren't really about the Department of Mysteries."

"Then what are they about?" Harry pressed.

"Well, uh… Well, they are related to the department of mysteries, if that helps."

"Uh huh." Harry looked disbelieving.

"No, really, they are." Ron insisted a little angrily, sitting up straighter and sitting Indian style.

"Well then, how?" Harry asked; his voice calm.

Ron faltered and looked down, disgruntled.

"Ron." Harry said quietly so Ron looked up. "You don't have to get angry at me. I just want to help since…" He paused. "Since you've helped me so much I… I just… I want to be able to really help you too." At this he finally looked away.

Something in Ron's brain snapped and suddenly everything just came spewing forth Every dream which he'd dreamed in the past four months spilled out with detail into the pools of blood, screams, exploding bodies, peeled skin and every bit of gruesomeness. The brains and how the dreams wouldn't fade when he woke up; the screams filling his head; the fear and lack of sleep just kept coming out. Everything he'd been thinking and worrying about and just the pure horror was voiced. Harry's eyes grew wider and wider even after Ron thought they couldn't get any larger as he spoke. By the end of it all, Harry was sitting right beside him against the headboard, arm around his shoulders.

When his voice finally died, the two sat is silence, neither knowing what to say.

"So… uh… sorry I've been angry and all lately." Ron finally said lamely.

Harry snorted a laugh. "It's all right, mate."

"So… I kind of am not a fan of sleeping lately." Ron said, fiddling with the sheet.

"I've never been a big fan of it myself." Harry said, trying to sound executive. "Over rated, I say."

They both laughed and leaned their heads together. Silence overcame the two boys and their eyes began to droop. Harry sniffed and tried to sit up a little.

"Do you want me to stay?" Harry asked.

Ron didn't answer, only shuffled himself back down under his covers and laid his head firmly on the right side of his pillow. Harry scooted down beside him and both promptly fell asleep.


End file.
